Destiny's Betrayal
by myonlinelifeismorephantastic
Summary: Sometimes life doesn't go as you'd planned. And sometimes that's an understatement. And then there's Dan's life. WARNING: Potential triggers including mentions of rape, suicide attempts, sexual themes and an abusive relationship.
1. The Beginning

It wasn't the first thing to have gone wrong in my life but oh, it would definitely not be the last. However if you'd asked me that morning if by 8 o'clock the following evening I would find myself homeless I wouldn't have believed it. I don't think I _ever_ would have seen what came was coming before hand, maybe I'd just been too nervous to really think about it, yet despite that, I'd felt the need to pack first. Just in case, even though I had no real speculation that I would need to; it had been more of a procrastination tool.

However it was a good thing I had done so because my parents didn't exactly give me much time to 'get the hell out' after I came out to them. Looking back I realised ever deciding to admit I was gay was probably a bad call, but somehow it had evaded my knowledge for 18 years that they were all impossibly homophobic, maybe I just never paid enough attention. Either way, my father had made it incredibly clear that suddenly I could no longer call those people my family, and could no longer call this house home; there was disowned, then there was me. It felt like a whole new level of betrayal. I'd been kicked out to the streets, abruptly alone in this cruel world, the only things I had were everything I could fit in my bag; a few sets of clothes, a rain jacket, a box of cereal bars, 2 bottles of water, my crappy cell phone, one book and about a thousand pounds I'd managed to save up over the years from various birthdays. Now they were my only worldly possessions.

As soon as I was kicked outside into the pouring rain I began preparing myself for the worst, not sure what would happen now exactly, but not seeing how it could be anything good. It was pitch black outside, raining, my hair was soaked already even as I'd pulled my raincoat on, I was cold and I had no where to go. No friends, no relatives close by, no-one who could take me in, I'd reached a brand new level of feeling alone and it felt rather helpless. The only thing I knew once I'd stepped out of the house I'd lived in for 18 years was I had to get out of Wokingham, my home town, I simply couldn't bare to stay here when suddenly all it represented was betrayal. I had no home now, so couldn't have a home town. That idea hurt. Silently I began formulating my plans as I walked blindly through the rain, at some point the rain on my cheeks becoming salty.

I got the first bus out, not caring where it went as long as it wasn't here. I was cold, I was wet, I was miserable, lost, alone, it was terrible. No one stopped to help, no one asked how I was. No one seemed to care that a soaking wet teenage boy was sitting on the bus with them sobbing. It was like they too had outcast me and I realised that was all I was now, an outcast. For the first ten minutes of the ride I tried to plan what my life would be from now on, but honestly, I could have no idea. I would find myself in a new and strange city, have to find a job, hopefully earn enough money to buy enough food to live on, but where I was going to live, I had no idea. Maybe there'd be some sort of homeless shelter I could go to because that's what I was now, homeless. Even then, could I even live? It would be more like just survive. That's what happened when your future was ripped from you.

But the more I tried not to think about how crappy a turn my life had taken the more depressed I became. It was true; it would be a hard enough struggle now just to survive, let alone anything else I'd ever wanted to do in my life. I had nothing now, just myself, any dreams of going to university, having a successful career, meeting the man of my dreams, all of that had been ripped cruelly from my reach and I quickly lost all hope trying to see how any of it might still be possible. It just wasn't.

Soon I couldn't bare to think about it all and under the gentle hum of the bus' engine and drone of wheels across the motorway I soon silently cried myself to sleep leaning against the window. Tear filled eyes slipped shut where they'd been staring out into the black abyss of the night that so perfectly represented my future.

By the time I regained consciousness the bus was pulling into a station and I was exhausted, despite the sleep. Far past caring about anything as trivial as sleep deprivation I got off, trudging slowly out into the rain again once I'd left the bus shelter, but only making it 100 meters down the street before I really realised I couldn't possibly have any less of an idea where I was going. I was in that strange new city that I didn't know, had never been to before, I didn't even know what city it was, I was wet and cold and had no where to stay the night. Abandoned, in every sense of that word.

Completely numb, frozen at this realisation for a moment, I just stood in the rain, vaguely wondering how wet my bag must be getting before turning around and walking even slower back towards the bus shelter, fresh tears making their way down my cheeks in the process. The best shot I had, I figured, was to find a quiet corner in the bus terminal and sit there till morning, then just hope that in the daylight I'd be able to see an explanation for all of this and what I was supposed to do.

Shivering violently I found my corner, curling up, hidden away from the world, and despite the cold, the damp, the torturing thoughts swirling around in my head, I soon fell asleep, half hoping I'd never wake up again.

To my disappointment in the early hours of the morning I did wake up, still cold, and still a little damp, and I opened my eyes to the harsh sight of small groups of people, the beginnings of rush hour, walking past giving me uncomfortable gazes, their pace quickening as they passed me. Immediately feeling depressed at this less than pleasant welcome back to the land on consciousness, I had no choice but to get up and move but stiff from sleeping in such a tight position I ached all over as I did. The headache made things no better.

Overnight the rain had cleared and now, around what I estimated to be about 7 o'clock, the sun was beginning to rise over what promised to be a clear day. As I moved quickly out of the station and away from the crowds this prospect did absolutely nothing to change my mood. The only upside I had was that I finally took notice of the station name and could appreciate the fact I'd found my way to Manchester, a large enough city that no one would ever find me and maybe I'd stay lost forever. But this was a small silver lining in the context of it all, so sighing, feeling my eyes threatening to shed tears once more, I trudged on, becoming more so depressed by that fact I realised quite early on: that I could no longer afford to live, it was just operation survive.

Common sense and a bit of logical thought and planning should be all it took in order to do so, and I did try and let this thought process consume me, but it was hard to do so when every few moments this task only served to remind me of why it was necessary in the first place. I thought of the basic needs a person would have. I knew I'd have to get a job, that much was obvious, where and _what_ couldn't really matter too much, but ideally it would be nice to be stationed near a public toilet with a shower, really ideally one that you didn't have to pay to use, so at least I would be showing up for work looking vaguely presentable. I knew the faster I could find a job the better, because the longer I left it I figured the more likely it would be harder to find one because the more and more like a kid on the streets I'd appear. Hence the reason for want of a shower. As for food, I figured stationing myself near the university would work nicely as they often had a small shop associated that sold the basics of everything, and hopefully at a slightly lower than regular price to cater for student living. Student living would probably be a luxury compared to what I was faced with. From there it would be a game of finding a way to survive on the streets until I'd saved up enough money to rent a place, and then slowly begin to rebuild a life for myself. Sounded like fun.

The job hunt would start today, I knew it had to, but first things first I also knew I needed food. Figuring I'd save the cereal bars in my bag for true emergencies, I walked away from the station into the already busy streets of the centre of Manchester, searching for the cheapest possible way to get something to eat, and preparing myself for what I knew was not going to be a fun rest of my life in the slightest.


	2. The Fight

It took a few days but eventually I got into the swing of things, at least in the sense that I had a rhythm, rather than I was actually enjoying any of it. I'd located the university, which ironically enough had been my insurance choice, not that I'd ever find out if I'd have had the chance to go there, and a fairly clean public toilet that you didn't have to pay for, surprise, surprise. I also got lucky enough to station myself somewhere in-between the two, finding a fairly quiet park with an undercover gazebo-type structure with a bench that so far I had yet to notice anyone else wander near. This I resolved to call home, at least until I had saved up enough money to begin renting the cheapest flat I could find. However that plan relied on the idea that I would in fact find a job sometime soon, but that was proving to be much harder than expected.

As it turned out it seemed in the entirety of Manchester no one wanted to hire an eighteen year old. Everywhere I went I was on the lookout for 'help wanted' signs, but nothing came up. I checked in newspapers, nothing that didn't at least require some form of experience I did not have, and literally every store seemed to have more than enough cashiers. I remained jobless, and as a painful result as this trend continued it seemed my bank balance was depleting exponentially. No matter how hard I tried though, I knew eventually the money would run out if I did not have a way of replenishing it, and after about two months of this way of living, my pounds, and my hope, were beginning to run dangerously low.

It was an utterly pathetic feeling, I decided one cold evening I was forced to spend alone in the park, that I'd come to detest: knowing you had a complete and utter lack of hope left and no longer had the will to survive as a result. Quite different, I decided as I continued to sit there, from being suicidal; I did not want to end my life as a method of escape, because at this point it was almost as if I simply didn't care enough. True, I could see no reason to go on, but couldn't be bothered to put a stop to it either. I simply spent all my time wishing I was in a different position all together, wishing I'd never told my family I was gay in the first place. In that case I'd be finding out my A Level results today, and finding out which university I was going to, but instead all that hard work had been wasted and I was left only with my hatred of the world.

As I continued to sit, staring absently into space, shivering on my stupid little park bench that I'd miserably been sleeping on for the last eight weeks, I began thinking something along the lines of:

F _uck this, fuck it all_. _I literally couldn't give two shits what happens to me now, I just want out of this hell hole my life has become_

That state of mind led to the desire to do something reckless, and so coupled with the equally as strong desire to just escape, I found myself pooling together every last scrap of money I had, about 20 pounds in all, and after stowing my bag in a well hidden bush, I headed off towards the closest and busiest gay bar I could find.

My reasoning with this plan, I figured, was I was going to run out of money soon enough and by this point I'd just had enough anyway. There was only so long one could live in complete poverty for before one had just had enough of it all. So just for one night, and this one night only, I decided I'd give it all up, knowing I was _well past_ giving a damn anymore, so for one night I was letting go, screw all consequences and screw all planning. My plan; drinking either as much as I could afford, or enough to get me drunk enough that for a while I wouldn't remember any of it was happening, whatever came first.

The bar was loud and full of strangers, dancing, drinking, hitting on one another, making out in a corner, all a totally new experience, but a welcome one. I couldn't think through the noise, which was nice for once, being able to escape my own sense of impending doom. This was also actually the opportunity for my first experience with alcohol, which I figured should be interesting in the least, so cautiously making my way to the bar I ordered myself a beer.

As far as alcohol went I soon found it wasn't quite my favourite drink, but luckily it did exactly the trick, and soon, even after just two, I could feel myself becoming tipsy beyond the point of thinking straight and that was perfectly okay with me. And as for good decision making for the night went, well that already flew out the window when I decided to come here in the first place, which was why as soon as I noticed the more than attractive guy a few places along the bar, quite clearly checking me out, I wasn't exactly panicking like I probably should have been. No, instead, figuring to hell with literally all of it, I met his gaze with a certain unfamiliar lust I couldn't quite keep away.

And despite how far from my comfort zone I knew I was about to become, the alcohol in my system led the way and had me acting totally out of character when said guy decided to wander over, sliding in next to me one seat along at the bar. I decided just to run with it.

'Hey,' he slurred, obviously much more drunk than I was, but it was still obvious what he wanted. And I knew I was probably going to give it to him. I hardly had the conviction to believe there was a reason I shouldn't. There wasn't any point now, I may as well. So I replied.

'Hi,' I answered back, giving him a weak smile, too tired of life and of feeling to remember to feel nervous about flirting with a stranger, and certainly too far gone to be worried about something as stupid as self-consciousness when the man's gaze flickered over me, lingering in all the right, or probably wrong, places.

The man laughed a little however at my answer, moving in closer as he saw I was willing to play along. 'You're a bit cute for this place, aren't you?' The man asked with an excited grin and I blushed despite myself, but not exactly caring about my reaction really. This guy seemed to be offering an interesting escape from reality and I sure as hell was going to take it.

'I try,' I responded, my own smile growing slightly more confident as the man laughed, taking his opportunity and stepping closer, wrapping an intimate hand around my waist as he called over the bartender.

'Can I buy you a drink then, you sexy little thing?' He asked, that hand sliding around to cup my bum, that action making me shiver but almost in a good way. I'd never been touched there before and this guy was bigger and stronger than me and very, very attractive; the idea of him excited me a bit. I didn't care what happened by this point anyway.

'Why not?' I answered with a shrug making the man laugh again and I smiled around innocently at the scene. In retrospect, at this point I may have just been craving the attention, attention of any kind at all from anyone, this night was a loud scream out to the Universe to make sure it hadn't all forgotten about me, I was still here, I still mattered didn't I? Did I?

But I didn't matter too much to myself, at least not enough to avoid the self-destructive, because at the base of it that was all this night was, self destructive, and all because I was sick of life. Enough reckless behavior and maybe I could end it.

The night progressed quickly, a few drinks down the line and I was far too drunk to care where the man, who's name I'd never caught, was putting his hands. Whatever he _was_ doing, assuming his intention was to get me home in his bed, it was certainly working to turn me on where I'd never have expected it. Who knew the groping touch of a stranger in a dark corner of a sleazy bar would do it for me, but then again what about my life _had_ been expected these last few months?

It didn't take long for his favor to be returned in that dark corner either. My own fumbling touch and anxious lips on his mouth clearly excited him. In addition the obvious fact I'd never done anything like this before didn't seem to turn him off either, rather the opposite. He murmured rough words of everything he was going to do to me later as his hand trailed round the front of my jeans, rubbing against me through the material and he grinned against my neck as his sensual words and touch gained a quiet moan from me, and a more pronounced reaction quite a bit lower.

This was miles out of my comfort zone yes, but by the time it was obvious the man didn't want to wait any longer, I was practically putty in his hands. I was willing to do anything he told me, mainly because it just felt so good to have someone telling me what to do again instead of having to fend for myself and make my own damn way through life like I'd been doing. I didn't want to make any decisions tonight, I was just letting the events of the night carry me along, and it had led me here so I was going to take what I could get. It could hardly matter if I gave myself to this man anyway, I may as well let him have his fun, it would make one of us at any rate. Mainly I just didn't want to fight anything any more. If this is what I wanted then let it happen, it might be easier. Who knew?

 _It's pretty clear you don't get out much, is that right?_

The man's voice was soft and melodic against the raging music. That was only background noise now through the haze of what my life had become anyway. My sense of touch right now was much more active than my hearing, the sensation of the man grinding up against me stronger than the beating of the base, my heart, in my chest.

 _I-no, not really._

My own voice was weak, from lack of effort, with desire, I didn't want to stop and talk now, I just wanted this man's promise to give me something better to focus on, a little bit of pleasure through all the pain I'd had up until now. That promise sounded good, sounded inviting, more so the closer his touch trailed down my front.

The man moaned against my skin. _I can tell. You're very excitable, you get so flustered when I touch you._ His hand dropped down now, right to where I needed him and the pain of my life began seeping away in time with his strokes. I moaned. _Do you like it when I touch you?_

 _Ah-yes._ My voice caught in my throat and the man laughed.

 _Why don't you tell me what you want me to do then?_

 _I-I don't know._

 _You really haven't done this before have you?_ The man's rhythm slowed, stopped. He chuckled as I shifted against him, desperately pressing myself against his eager touch. He started up again, rougher than before, probing, nimble fingers pulling down the zipper of my jeans, sneaking inside, closing around me. I gasped.

 _I bet I can show you a few things._ I moaned. _I bet you're so tight._ His other hand fell low around back, holding me closer to him. Exploring as his tongue explored my mouth.

 _Just the thought of that makes me so, so hard for you. Do you like that? Do you want to feel? I bet you do, I bet you're a little cock slut and you don't even know it yet. Here, put your hands on me. That's right, right there._

He took his hands off me, placed his hands over mine, removing them from his hips, guiding them down instead, pressing my hand down onto the prominent bulge stretching out his jeans and I gasped as I took in the hardness that was pressed against my hand now. The man moaned as experimentally I moved my hand the same way his had glanced over me a few moments ago.

 _You feel how big I am? You're in for a real treat, don't you know it. Uh,_ the man's grunt of pleasure was animalistic as I did as he asked, letting my touch explore around the zip, tugging that down and maneuvering my hand beneath the fabric, too awestruck at what I was doing to form any words back. Only the man's breathy groans was the sounds between us.

 _You see how hard I'm getting. That's all for you, that's all because I just can't wait to push myself inside you, you little slut. You know how good that's going to feel? How nice it's going to be when I'm moving inside you later, that tight little ass of yours is going to clench around me and I'm going to cum in you, I'm going to fill you right up, you sexy little thing, I'm so_ glad _I can be your first._

I was pressed up against the wall now, the man kissing me hungrily and I was kissing him back just as desperately, ready to give him more, ready to experience more, ready to give him everything I had. This was happening, god did I need this to happen now, I was too far gone for consequences and what was the point of turning away?

I was definitely too _drunk_ to care at any rate. I was too done with my life to care. So when the man sidled up closer, whispering seductively in my ear, his hand eagerly groping done my side to my front, low on my stomach, lower, I let him. When he kissed me I let him. When he asked me to touch him I did.

I let him take me home

And I let him fuck me. Just like he'd said. I let that new pain consume me, a pain so different to all I'd experienced in the last 2 weeks, a welcome change, a welcome pain, a good pain, a pain that felt nice for once. It shouldn't have, but it did.

My first sexual experience ever and I did it all in the name of an escape, a stupid metaphorical representation of what my life had become, letting everything just fuck me over, letting it all happen out of my control. But I liked that for once. Life had become too hard to have to think about it all. Letting go was easy. Letting go didn't hurt in the same way.

I looked at this as my form of rebellion, take that Dad, but everything was done for the hell of doing it. The exact opposite of what I'd ever planned, ever hoped for, always imaging my first time would be with someone I loved and trusted but that didn't matter anymore. The very idea of caring about something that stupid, being that delusional, it was laughable now. I almost did laugh as I thought about that between the pain of each thrust I was consumed by.

It didn't matter because now I knew no one loved me and I could trust no one. So fuck all of that, I thought, sentimentality, what was the point?

All I felt during the act instead was just cold now, a detached pleasure, it didn't mean anything more than escape for me, self destruction, a release, a way out of the monotone my life had become.

It wasn't hard to realise it probably felt a lot better for him. Even having no experience whatsoever in the area I could tell he wasn't exactly paying attention to making sure I enjoyed myself. But even as he just took what he wanted, it was enough for me, not what I wanted maybe, but that was the story of my life. Literally.

I couldn't bring myself to care now, no matter how much my life had gone to shit. I should have cared more. But everyone has their limits. I'd reached mine.

Even once he'd finished, fallen asleep, leaving me to lie next to him, wide awake, wrapped in damp sheets, a strangers cum leaking slowly from my ass, I couldn't bring myself to hate myself even as I realised what I'd done.

It had felt good and there was no denying it. That pain: sweet and slow at first, then rough and dirty and all consuming, no passion just pleasure, the release almost like a cleanse. And then for the first time in weeks, against all odds, instead of feeling disgusted or even more worthless than I already did, hopeless even, I realised I felt _good_. Turns out giving myself over to the night had done exactly what I'd been hoping it would. I was now, officially, cold to the world. It was a good feeling. It felt like if I'd been through all this I could go through anything, nothing could possibly be fucked up any further than it currently was. Hence, none of it mattered. That was my reasoning and I could be content with that. But I didn't care enough to like it either.

I fell asleep under a roof for once. Cold on the inside, but warm, blankets, the warmth of a human being, that was the one thing I'd missed. Human contact. Now I had it and had a method of getting it again. It may have been masochistic, but I fell asleep with a smile.

The next morning there was a new feeling. Determination. A new spark for survival. I ached now but that was a satisfying ache, and masochist as I was, I wanted it again. I had goals in mind now, the quickest route to self destruction.

I asked the man who'd been my first if I could use his shower. _Maybe you should let me join you. You're just as sexy in the morning._ And why the hell not? This man became my second too as I let him fuck me again. This time I knew what to expect and enjoyed it more. The agony became pleasure once more and more quickly, and that was what I sought. A way to turn my pain into something good. Something to look forward to. Something to break up the drone my life had become, all my life was now.

This time he took me from behind, his fingers digging into my hips hard as he thrust into me harder. He left bruises, and this time I moaned louder, gaining confidence as I braced myself against the grimy tile wall. Glancing over I could see our reflection in the glass door and that image turned me on further, pushing _me_ over the edge as the man came for a second time.

After he was finished he left me alone again. I finished showering, happy for the chance to rinse the streets off my body as I basked in the high the man had given me. When I finally left the hot steam the man had fallen asleep again, so I was careful to stay quiet as I found my clothes where they'd been discarded on the floor last night. Not that I would ever see this man again, but after the release he'd given me I hardly thought it would be a polite repayment to wake him up.

Besides, this gave me my chance. In picking up his jeans on accident twenty pounds fell out. I figured I may as well take it because what little more was stealing on a conscience that was past caring? None at all. On my way out I grabbed the least rotten banana from his fridge. Breakfast. For the first time in a long time. I'd been living off one meal a day.

All in all, I started the day in the best mood I'd been in for weeks, months Why, because somehow stripping me of everything I had left in the world had actually left me powerful. The decision to let go of every last part of me that cared left me stronger, not weaker. Nothing could hurt me now, especially as for once I was starting the day having spent the night in a bed, with a roof over my head, a good breakfast, and I was 20 pounds richer. It could only go up from here.

This quickly became a routine. A system. The norm for me. It wasn't like I had anything better to do with my time and filling that time with meaningless sex, courtesy of strangers, was the certain excitement everything else lacked. It was a nice system.

Each night I was back to the same bar. The same thing, familiar. Each night I went home with a different guy. Different thing, yet still familiar. I grew more confident in myself, in the conviction that this was a way of survival. It kept me off the streets. In a way it was even a means of an income. Dark, but I had nothing better to be doing. The lack of meaning behind the action reflected the lack of meaning in my life quite nicely, and I liked to think of it as a dire metaphor for how life had fucked me over. Now, one by one, what seemed like the entire gay population of the sleazy bit of Manchester would fuck me over. The excitement came in the release, the one small moment of ecstasy where I found it was impossible to think about anything else other than the pleasure, which meant in that few short moments my life could have been anything and there was no way of knowing. There was no difference between me and anyone else cause that release released me from myself.

That was the escape and it was that I craved. It became my lifeline. I was depending on it each night as the only thing that had me living another day at first. It was probably quite sad that that's what I was living for now, but it wasn't like I hadn't tried. This had been a last resort, when absolutely everything else had gone to shit, this was my only solution. I'd live this way until I died, which judging by the self destructive nature of the whole thing I didn't expect would be too far off. But that didn't bother me. No one would miss me. And as dictated by the Universe it didn't seem like I'd be missing much either. It was a perfect system and so this is what I did.


	3. The Rapture

I knew it couldn't last forever the moment I walked through the door on the last night I would ever visit that godforsaken bar. The loud familiar music hit me like a fatal blow and I felt trapped, but I'd been trapped for a long time. I knew I couldn't do it anymore, couldn't bare the thought of hanging around in here, using money from the last time to get drunk enough I didn't feel when yet another stranger would take to me and take me home.

I ached all over, physically and emotionally, and was at a new loss. This had been my only hope for survival, it had kept me off living on the streets, gave me money, but each night was spent under a different roof, having a bed hardly did much to give me a good nights sleep, and the money, that was just stealing, but I felt like some sort of prostitute. A prostitute, and if you'd asked me even when I was first running from my family if my life could sink to this low a level, I still wouldn't have believed you.

What sort of a life was this, no matter how perfect the escape might have seemed at the beginning? It finally caught up to me, what I was doing, and I became numb to the escape. It didn't work anymore, like a drug I'd developed a resistance to. Now I only hated myself more and more each time I tried to get high. That final night, stepping through the door, being assaulted by the sounds and sights and smells I'd slowly come to hate, I knew I couldn't let myself survive like this anymore. No survival would be better than this life.

As the strangling feeling overcame me I rushed back outside, hardly noticing the rain beginning to drizzle over me as I took shelter in the dark alleyway behind the bar. This place of refuge however was a very bad idea.

I collapsed against the wall, breathing heavily and feeling my tears mix with the rain as I cried about what my life had become. I couldn't go on like this, but if I stopped I couldn't possibly survive long. I'd been trying to find a job for the past seven months with no luck; I couldn't hold out that something would come up before I starved to death. I'd only been able to get enough food to keep me going for the last few months by my deluded prostitution act. I'd run out of that initial starting fund long ago.

So there that left me, slumped against a wall outside a sleazy bar crying about everything I'd lost and everything I'd never have the chance to gain; love, happiness, a normal fucking life. This was it, I realised after a few cold minutes, this would be the end of my life. Nineteen years old and I was destined to starve to death slowly on the streets, or I figured probably get murdered first if I kept hanging around dodgy parts of town like this.

And for once I let myself cry over it, there was no point pretending I could hold back my feelings like I had before. Before I'd repressed them all in the hope something would get better or believed in the impression it would be easier if I just didn't feel at all. Now it was all too late to matter anyway so I may as well feel. It was close to the end, I wouldn't be suffering long I could see that now. Nothing was going to get better and I just had to accept that this would be it, the end of me. My life had never been destined to come to anything more, like the Universe had just decided it had made a mistake bringing me into existence in the first place, so now it was trying to get rid of me as quickly as possible. I'd fought back for a while but that was hopeless because there was no point. I knew that now. The Universe had just given me a bad hand and I had to accept that.

Over my own sobs I hardly paid any attention to the loud voices drifting round the corner through the rain to where I was hiding, but as they got louder I managed to pull myself together enough to wipe my eyes on my sleeve. As I was drying my eyes the group of rowdy men came round the corner, their voices breaking into loud jeers of triumph as they saw me.

'Aayyy,' one of them drawled, probably the leader of this little gang, the largest out of the lot. 'Here he is!' The gruff looking man exclaimed, moving forward, and with a fearful start I realised he was speaking about me. Scared I looked up, meeting the man's gaze as he'd moved within a few steps of me, and a shiver ran right the way down my spine as a wicked grin spread across the man's face.

'Our favourite little slut,' he added as he moved closer, his gang moving in behind him and I realised too late I was now about to be trapped in a corner. No escape, and with the mangled smile I was receiving from this man that previous thought that I might die soon suddenly became so much more real.

'What- What do you w-want?' I stuttered, taking a stumbling step backwards and reaching out behind me desperately, finding nothing but the wall I'd just successfully backed myself into. It was a stupid question, to be honest, because it was quite clear from the way they were all looking at me what exactly they wanted. It wasn't hard to understand considering apparently over the last few months at the same bar I'd built myself quite a reputation.

'We heard you were selling yourself around a little bit,' the leader drawled with that sickly smile, gaining cheers of agreement from his group behind him. Four in total, and much more than I could ever dream of getting away from, fighting definitely not, and outrunning certainly I was doomed. Maybe this was just some sign of confirmation from the Universe telling me 'yep, you're outta here, I'll make it as painful as possible'. A great big 'fuck you' from the world, it would probably be this very night I was done for. I could see the newspaper headlines now: _Gang bang rapes young boy leaving him for dead._ And that would be how I go out of the world, hardly graceful, never having been loved or truly cared for. At least I wasn't dying a virgin, I thought darkly.

'We wanted a little taste for ourselves, didn't we boys?' The man continued and I sighed, giving in and letting it happen. I could feel tears slipping down my cheeks as the man stepped close enough now I could smell the alcohol on his breath, and feel his erection pressing against my stomach when he leant closer.

'You're such a sexy little thing,' the man drawled, his hand grabbing me roughly and pressing me against the wall as I closed my eyes, just willing it to be over quickly. At this point I just wanted to die, or at least figured that would be easier now. It wasn't like I had much choice; this was so different from any other time I'd been hit on, sure it wasn't like I hadn't already slept with some sleazy assholes, but there was no procedure here, no flirting, no buying me a drink first, and certainly no consent as the second man moved in planting a wet kiss to my neck as the first pressed against me holding me against the wall. These men had seen something they wanted and I knew they'd stop at nothing to get it, the dark overcast alley only gave them the prime opportunity. Great planning on my part.

Cringing against the repulsive feel of the man beginning to kiss me hungrily, I prayed to the Universe in one last desperate attempt that it would all be over quickly and that there wasn't an afterlife where I would have to go to remember everything that wasn't worth living for. But that was hopeless, there was no saving grace. Nothing to help me now.

'SAM!' the angel called, loudly enough to almost convince me to open my eyes, but what really did it was as the angry angel's voice called out more ferociously the man attacking my lips with his tongue pulled away in as much shock as I was in.

'SAMMY! Get the fuck away from my boyfriend you scumbags!'

I opened my eyes disoriented, delirious, squinting through the rain and fighting to concentrate through the haze of alcohol left in my throat. I was just about able to make out the silhouette of a tall man coming to join our party through the blurry shine of light surrounding him like a halo. The streetlight illuminating him I realised later but with what happened next he may as well have been sent from heaven.

The man so intent on having his way with me backed off, fear filling his eyes as he turned to look at my guardian angel, stepping away from me as the new arrival advanced.

'The fuck do you think you're doing? Touching him like that? You stay the fuck away from my Sammy!' The man warned, rage in his eyes intensifying to pure murder as my attacker tried to protest. 'You dick,' my saviour growled before full on punching the first man in the face. He fell staggering backwards into the wall, blood dripping from his nose as he cried out in pain, I cried out in shock causing the taller man to turn to me as the other members of the gang crowded around to attend to their fallen leader, trying to convince him to hurry off obviously scared of the bigger man.

For a split moment I was able to fully take in the appearance of my saving angel, he was tall, taller than me, not particularly large but intimidating all the same, messy black hair clinging to his face in its dampness, and most strikingly, piercing blue eyes that met mine through the dim light. For that second I was relieved, just about to throw myself onto him out of gratitude until it quickly dawned that as he looked at me he was about to realise I wasn't actually his 'Sammy' and he was probably about to turn around and leave me right back where I started. Or worse, maybe he wanted me just as badly as the other men had and I was in no better a situation.

But the black haired man did neither of those things. Instead he pulled me into a close hug, kissing my the top of my head quickly and putting on a show of great relief. 'This is exactly why I told you not to go running off without me babe,' he said loudly so the men helping the gang leader limp off could still hear. 'I'm just relieved I found you when I did! Never do that to me again okay Sammy, you're scaring me to death!' He added pulling me into another quick hug as the last member twisted back to look at us before they disappeared around the corner into the night, where hopefully, I would never see them again. My angel hugged me to him for a few moments more in which I grew yet more confused, at least until it was clear the men had definitely left and weren't coming back before he let go of me, stepping away to give me an urgent stare.

'Here, walk with me, quickly, let's get you out of here,' he murmured softly and quickly, taking my hand and dragging me along behind him in the opposite direction. I struggled to keep up, grateful for the man for getting me the hell out of this place, but worried about what was going to happen next. At least before, when I'd been ready to accept death, I'd had a plan. Now I was just letting a stranger take me off to god knows where and who knew what would happen, not to mention what on earth this meant from the Universe, my so called destiny, was that original plan to discard me still in place, or did this mean something had changed around?

As I half jogged behind my mysterious saviour I felt an unfamiliar rapturous sense of something it took me a moment to realise was hope. It had been so long since I'd felt anything of the sort, if I'd ever experienced it all, but now for a split second it occurred to me that perhaps something _had_ just gone very right in my life. At the very least it had not gone as downhill as I'd been prepared for. Tentatively I just had to check, I'd been through enough shit to know not to trust this feeling too soon.

'I-I'm not, your…Sam,' I stammered, shivering in the rain it had somehow only just occurred to me was still falling; I was soaked and I was freezing and it amazed me that for once these were not the complete least of my concerns. 'You know that, right, I think- I, you must be- you're mistaken,' I told him blushing and mentally cursing myself because surely now, even if this man _was_ a bit delusional, now he'd know for sure I wasn't his boyfriend 'Sammy', who apparently had a habit of wandering off and getting into trouble. The man surprised me once again however, answering roughly with only a small irritated glance at me from the corner of his attractive gaze.

'I know you're not, you idiot,' he replied hastily, rolling his eyes as we continued to walk at his rapid pace, nearly at the opposite end of the road now, a good hundred meters or so away from the bar, and my own personal hell, from which we'd just come.

'I just had to have a believable story, didn't I? There wasn't any other way I was going to get those scumbags to leave you alone, was there?' he replied angrily and I didn't know if he was just angry at the men, or at me as well. The softer glance he gave me after a second however, contrasting with his harsh tone, communicated a much gentler emotion he was feeling towards me, one that made me feel warm inside and much, much safer, although I wasn't quite sure what that emotion was.

'You- you saved me,' I murmured as we finally slowed to a halt around the corner, standing still in the rain and I allowed myself to look, really look, at the man who'd pulled me straight from hell, my saving grace, my guardian angel. This was my rapture I was sure, it had to be.

'Well someone had to,' the man replied with a dark, yet attractive, smile, much more a grimace in the bleak humour, but I couldn't tear my gaze away from his fascinatingly blue eyes. I felt drawn to him, like he wanted me closer to him and _I_ wanted to be closer to him too.

'I- I, can't thank you enough,' I stuttered, half caused by shivering, half from the nervousness I experienced in his presence; he made me feel so much smaller than I was, somehow more vulnerable, yet safer too, all at the same time. It was a powerful force albeit a strange oxymoronic one. The man whose name I still did not know cocked his head to one side slightly, watching me intently as I stumbled my way towards gratitude and only making me more flustered, that gaze made me feel like I wanted to do everything for him.

'I was scared they were going to…going to-I don't even know,' I choked on the words, trying to comprehend it now but I couldn't. In response the man's face contorted back into that grimace that I was growing to hate; it made him look so angry and hardened to the world, and such a good person as to rescue someone such as me, a stranger who meant nothing to him or the world, someone that perfect didn't deserve to ever experience anything that made them look like that.

'I do,' he replied darkly, glancing around nervously as if he was still expecting that gang to come around the corner suddenly, come back to haunt me. Without realising I took a small step closer to him, feeling safer nearer him.

'I've seen their work before but I'll spare you the details. All you need to know is it's not shit you want to slip and fall into,' he explained, taking a step towards me too resulting in a closeness that made me shiver. His hand brushed my arm slightly as he looked away, distracted for a moment, before turning back to me with that angry expression again that made me cower beneath him.

'Reminds me to ask,' he began again, his voice threatening beneath the conversational tone. He was pissed now, and the darkness to his tone and expression made me feel like I was wanted to break down and cry. 'Why the absolute fuck were you hanging around in a dark alley in this part of town on a Saturday night anyway? It's like you're practically asking for it!' he exploded, much less casual now, and I shrank back away from him, nervous. I hadn't wanted to upset him. 'You weren't, were you? Asking for it?' he added looking wild and scared now, and I quickly shook my head in a violent no.

'No, not exactly, not- not like that anyway,' I tried to explain badly, wondering if he somehow knew what my way of life had been up until tonight. If he didn't I promised myself not to tell him, sure that wouldn't do well for his anger management. He didn't seem like the type of guy to get on the wrong side of and well, he _had_ saved me so I owed him that much at least, but it was too late anyway. Of course it was.

'There's no point trying to deny it now, you self destructive idiot!' he fired back, raising his voice to the point I was worried someone would hear. 'You've got quite an underground reputation at that place from what I've heard, considering you're what, 18 at the most. You're cute, don't get me wrong, but that's probably why there's a fucking _waiting list_ for you! Yeah, you heard me right, a bunch of sick fucks who can't wait to get their disgusting little hands all over you, and those guys back there, they were just tired of waiting their turn but they would have had you sooner or later! You're only a kid for fuck's sake, this can't be what you want, can it, enabling a parade of filthy, perverted men in their sick fetishes, does that get you off, letting men twice your age put their hands all over you, grope you, cum all over you, do they make you get them off, do they take you from behind up against a toilet stall, is that really the life you want?!'

The man's voice had grown louder and more fierce over the course of his speech and I'd quickly grown more and more uncomfortable, cringing at the truth behind his words, the rash way he made everything that had happened to me the last few months so real, and so raw, and so painful. He just kept digging down, unearthing everything I'd fought so hard to keep covered.

'Stop,' I moaned softly, tears falling fast from my eyes now as I just wanted him to _stop_. I couldn't take any more but he only kept going, deeper and deeper.

'No, you need to hear this. What are you trying to do here? Is this some sort of screwed up bet? Or are you just a suicidal _idiot_ with no brains, because it's a different pervert every night and you're going to get yourself murdered if you keep it up, not to mention a HIV status, assuming of course you haven't already. I just don't understand your game plan here, enlighten me!' he demanded as I cowered against the wall away from him but feeling no inclination to continue to hide it all. I wondered what it was about this man that made me want to tell him absolutely everything, why did I feel like I could trust him, what was so different about him to everyone else?

'It's not like I had a choice,' I admitted, trying so hard to sound a little more convicted than I had, the words trembling out rather than the force I'd meant them to come with. But instead of sympathy this only set the man off all over again leading me closer and closer to break down.

'Of course you had a choice you spoon!' the black-haired man exploded, his anger making me tremble on the spot and cause the tears to begin spilling from the corner of my eyes again. 'It's called stay the fuck away from people like that! Don't let them near you, just what the hell happened to you to make you so damaged that this is what you have to resort to?!' he demanded to know and at that question it all became too much. It had been a long time coming but suddenly I couldn't bear to think about it because he was right, I was damaged now in so many ways I hadn't even realised it was happening. It all started with the rejection, the disowning, that beginning, but in trying just to survive that I'd tortured myself anew and only made things worse, perhaps now I was just unfixable. My angel may have saved me from one fate but I was in no way saved completely and probably never could be. I was still in danger, a danger to myself it seemed, I didn't think there was anything that could fix me now.

The tears came with no regard to my dignity, cascading down my face and bringing with them sobs that wracked my entire body. There was no mercy, and finally the man caved, but I couldn't see the guilty expression that befell his features now. I could only barely hear his sympathetic words of comfort, but I could definitely feel his warm figure wrapping around me completely, nothing more than a complete stranger hugging me tightly to them, but it had been so long since I'd had any innocent human contact; sometimes you just need a close hug every now and again.

'Hey, hey, don't cry, I'm sorry, I don't want to upset you, hey, come on, I'll take you home, you're safe now, you've learnt your lesson I'm sure, you're going to be okay,' he murmured reassuringly and I came back into the conversation as he mentioned the word home, expecting that to set me off all over again. It didn't, instead it did the opposite, my sobs choking to a hold, my tears freezing up inside me.

'You can't. I don't have a home,' I whispered, voice strangled from the emotion so I felt strangely dead inside. Feeling too much, it was like that had killed me.

'Okay,' the man replied, unfazed, stepping back from me now but keeping his hand in mine, holding me down to earth where I'd threatened to let go. 'You can come home with me and you can tell me all about it. I'm here for you now, I'll take care of you,' he told me softly giving me something that almost equated to a small smile and it took an equally small weight off my shoulder, just the promise of finally having someone to talk to, that was overwhelming enough, but he was giving me a place to stay too and that was just too much to have ever asked for.

'Are you sure?' I gasped in disbelief, still having just as little a clue as to why this man was bothering at all, couldn't he see the Universe had given up on me, there was no hope for me, I wasn't worth anyone's time and effort. But as I allowed myself to hope anyway, looking up at the man with what was as close to a smile as I was going to get to, the man smiled back truly and sympathetically, a very foreign expression to me.

'I don't just rescue anyone,' he replied, one side of his mouth curling up more in a sad grin and I felt a rush of affection for this man I didn't know. Spending a moment to gaze up at him in wonder I felt renewed hope that there was some good left in the world after all; I'd been growing understandably skeptical.

'Now, let's get you somewhere warmer, you're shivering,' the man noticed at the same time I did, meriting this as a much more worrying problem now relative to what it had been before. Now that I'd been promised somewhere to stay, at least for tonight, with no strings attached, I was eager to get to that place dry, the promise of warmth better than anything.

He put his arm around me again, tucking me snugly into his side as we began to walk again and I let him guide me. It was a nice feeling, being held close to someone who had no further intention, a contact I'd never experienced before, but something I liked. It made me feel like a person for once, like I was human again, like the one holding me against him actually cared.

We walked and walked and walked for what seemed like hours through the rain. Not knowing where we were going I had only my trust in the man who treated me like I was real, and eventually his promise held true and we arrived at a towering block of flats. I gasped as the warm air hit me when he opened the door, and I moved into the warm, dry building gratefully as the man moved in quickly behind me, throwing an anxious glance back out towards the cold, hard world he'd saved me from.

'This way,' he muttered, taking my arm, not roughly, but pulling me with him as he unlocked a second door leading into a stairwell that was slightly colder. Several flights later I was finding myself welcomed into his studio flat, which was by far the nicest out of the many tens of others I'd found myself in over the last few months. Of course in those instances, the owners' of such flats often weren't one for giving me much time to look around. This time around however the man whose name I still did not know let go of me as soon as we were inside and moved off to the kitchen, leaving me to enter more slowly and take my time.

'Do you want a drink?' the man called from the kitchen before re-entering the room carrying a glass containing what looked liked straight vodka and cautiously I shook my head, the smell alone making me gag just from pure association; I'd spent too many nights of my life being assaulted by that smell. The man luckily took no offence, instead only crossing the room carrying the bottle of vodka and his glass before downing the drink in one and setting the glass on the table, not pouring another yet, but sitting on the sofa and beckoning me over to sit next to him with that sympathetic look again, a soft look of pity.

'So, you going to tell me what's going on? You can trust me you know,' he murmured softly as I allowed myself to settle next to him on the sofa, sitting awkwardly on the edge and feeling very small as I looked up at him. He had a cautiously intrigued expression on as he examined me closely, a curiosity about me that at first I was uncomfortable about. At least until I realised that right now he was the only person in the entire world who actually cared and he was showing it, so right then I made the decision to trust him, putting aside my fears developed from months of social and emotional isolation, breaking down my own barriers.

And with that I launched into the story, the whole depressing ordeal that had become my life, explaining everything to this man, letting go and spilling all my secrets. I let it all out where I'd bottled everything up inside for so long only because I had no one to talk to and couldn't risk emotionality when there was survival to fight with. Now, safe in a stranger's arms, I _could_ allow myself to feel, and taking advantage of that I let myself feel it all.

For what seemed like hours I sat there and spoke, my voice coming out numb with the pain of it all, but somehow making me feel lighter just to get it out, to let someone else know what I'd gone through and what it'd made me do. Finally I could let go of everything I'd been holding back all these months, every emotion and thought I'd been too scared to think. I spilled my soul out to this man and more importantly he listened. I told him everything there was and he just sat and listened to me like no one had ever bothered to before. By the time I'd finished it was technically the next morning, after I'd told the man all about how I'd had to run away from home and how alone I'd been forever and how my only option for survival had been what I'd done, how terrified I'd been the whole time no matter what I tried to tell myself, how much hope I'd lost…

'Well, up until tonight,' I found myself murmuring softly sometime early that morning where I'd relaxed into the man's side now, letting him hold me close to him, glad just for the contact as he'd taken it upon himself to be there for me.

'I think you've given me some back,' I admitted barely loud enough for myself to hear, I thought, let alone him. But he did and when he spoke again for the first time in hours as he'd let me ramble on and on and get it all out, taking care to hold me tighter when the emotions became too strong and I had to break down crying for a moment, he'd silently let me get through it, knowing it needed to be said; now his voice was rough after so long a silence.

'I'm glad,' he said, voice catching in it's softness. 'You seemed to have lost a lot. At least now I know why,' he murmured gently, rubbing his thumb gently up and down my arm and he held me against him. 'Why did you never think to get help?' He added curiously after a delicate moment and I looked up at him frowning.

'I didn't think anyone could help me. Or anyone would. What would be the point?' I asked meeting his eyes with a certain sadness because that was the one thing I still could not understand; why this man would bother in the first place. He read this question easily in my eyes and his blue eyes softened before he glanced away into the distance, staring across the room.

'I'd been going to that bar a while, I'd seen the sort of slum that passes through and I was used to that. I only went because the drinks were cheap, so that first night I noticed you it immediately felt like something was out of place.

I remember looking at you thinking _fuck, he can't be more than 18_ , and I was wondering what on earth you were doing in a god-awful place like this.' He paused to chuckle darkly before continuing his side of the story. I listened intently, hanging on his ever terrifying word.

'I was trying to keep an eye on you, sort of wanted to go up and talk to you, just to make sure you were okay, but then I saw you flirting pretty heavily with this one guy and he seemed to be pretty friendly. I figured he must be your boyfriend so when you went home with him a few drinks later I thought nothing of it.

But then the next night you were back again and you looked a little more desperate. You were looking around the crowd nervously and I thought you were looking for that boyfriend of yours but well, turns out you weren't as I realised soon enough. Once a different guy had latched onto you it confused me when you started flirting back, eventually going home with him. I wondered what had happened to the last one but tried not to think too much of it. It wasn't like I could really do much about it if you decided to have a few one night stands, it was your life after all. Who was I to interfere?

But you kept coming back, night after night, a different guy each time and it wasn't hard to notice that each night you looked a little more… dead inside, like the life was slowly being drained out of you. It never looked like you wanted to be here, it all seemed forced and that just didn't seem right to me.

I tried to figure you out, you were like some self destructive impossible puzzle, and that intrigued me, but by this point it was apparent I wasn't the only one who'd noticed your pattern; I tried to ask someone if they knew what was going on with you and nearly got in a fight cause he thought I was trying to cut in line.

That's how I discovered the waiting list hanging in one of the bathroom stalls and I was sure it had gone too far, you were still only a kid and you'd become some sort of _plaything_ for fuck's sake, you never looked happy enough about it to want to be there and I was sure this could only end badly. Guess I was right.

So I decided it was up to me to look out for you. I destroyed the list, you really don't want to know, and I kept an eye on you. Good thing for you 'cause it meant I overheard that gang of lowlifes plotting to get in before their rightful turn with you. That was the same night I saw something in you snap, like the last bit of life and hope had trickled out of you,' the man concluded with a dark smile before shaking his head sadly at me.

'I should have stepped in earlier, you've been through some shit,' he added and it was my turn to smile that sickly smile at my close demise.

'You could say that,' I answered before looking away, wondering if it could really all be a little bit better now. The promise that followed seemed to answer that for me at least.

'You're okay now though. It's all over, you don't have to do it anymore. I can take care of you now, for as long as you need, as long as you want,' he promised softly, hopefully even, and I looked up, meeting his kind blue eyes again and feeling some unfamiliar warm rush of affection for this stranger who'd been so willing to put his own safety on the line just to protect me. He really had been like my guardian angel, looking out for me all this time as best he could. Not that I'd made things easy for him.

'Thanks,' I murmured softly with the first genuine smile I'd smiled in months. But that wasn't nearly enough gratitude for my saving grace, he'd _literally_ saved my life but I didn't know anyway to show affection, I'd never felt it before, let alone on this level. I tried my best to explain, not really explaining at all but he understood, I could tell.

'You don't know how much you've helped me, how much you've saved me,' I added through the smile and the man answered with an amused smile, the corner of his mouth twitching up at the side, tongue just poking through his teeth.

'You don't even know my name,' he replied grinning, that small laugh making me _feel_ as young as I was when I realized he was right.

'Phil, since you never asked,' he added still with that perfect grin that shone through those blue, _blue_ eyes, and my own smile relaxed somewhat, putting a name to the face of my angel. Somewhat overcome now, I thought what a nice name that was, had a certain power and respect to it, a comfortable name, someone I could feel safe with. Finally.

'Dan,' I replied quietly and Phil's face split one more into a softer smile as he met my eyes for a long time, still holding me close as I looked up at him and blue melded with brown.

'You're safe now Dan,' he murmured gently, and smiling, I believed him. I truly felt safe for the first time in possibly ever. And smiling at that I relaxed into his hold, laying down with my head on his shoulder as we settled back into the couch. For the first time ever I fell asleep that night in another's arms feeling I was somewhere better than alone and that feeling meant the world to me.


	4. The Heaven

Waking up the next morning was surreal and at first I only came to slowly, before suddenly it all hit me at once. There was a small initial dropping sense of depression, a slight panic, as the first thing I noticed was I was waking up, although hardly for the first time, with the sort of warmness that could only be attributed to the heat of laying alongside another human body. For the shortest of moments I felt the uncomfortably familiar self-loathing before I realised I was still wearing yesterday's clothes and so was the body beneath me.

A moment was all it took for it all to come flooding back, knocking the breath out of me with a sigh as it did. I struggled to accept the fact but as I let myself sit up tenderly, looking around it, it was hard _not_ to feel at least a little elated at the rescue. Because here it was, it was all real. Last night I really had been saved from what would _surely_ have been my end by a handsome black haired stranger, my guardian angel. And he was still here watching over me, taking me in and caring for me when no one else would.

As I sat there in disbelief I continued to be unable to make it sink in; what had happened, what _was_ happening, it was almost too good to be true. The fact that this one man was willing to look after me, take me in under his wing so to speak, take care of me so never again would I have to spend another night naked in a stranger's bed hating every inch of my existence. Suddenly it seemed like maybe my life could have a purpose, maybe the Universe was giving me another shot, it hadn't given up on me yet.

I felt happier at that prospect than I was sure I'd felt in years because it was the first spark of hope I'd ever felt towards anything. Great. Even before my parents had kicked me out it wasn't quite like I'd been a part of the _most_ loving and supporting family unit. It had never really felt like the Universe had much good planned for me; growing up poor with parents whom it was clear to see had regretted having children in the first place, or at least regretted me, they'd always seemed to like my brother more than me. They were never around much either way, and when they were there was a lot of shouting, at each other, or at us. Me and Adrian, we'd had to stick together, but I'd come to the realization the Universe was not on my side around the time he turned 12 and somehow his childhood innocence was lost. He'd stopped looking up to me as his big brother, and that hurt. That he'd tried to distance himself from me when he was often the only good thing in my life, that hurt a lot. It had almost hurt more, his rejection compared to my parents when I'd come out, because he took their side of course; he'd always been closer to mum and dad anyway. Not that they were my parents anymore for that matter, nor Adrian my brother. Now I only had myself, or at least that was true up until last night. Now suddenly I had Phil, and that meant I had hope. Somehow I felt closer to being whole again; a large gap was beginning to be filled.

As I lay marveling at that for what I was sure was hours eventually the man who was my savior began to stir, waking up alongside me. His embrace wrapped tighter around me, and his warm breath tickled my neck where he nuzzled his face in against me. Soft, affectionate. A contact that sent pleasant shivers down my spine.

'Morning,' he murmured before shifting away from me, leaving me cold. Sitting up behind me, I followed suit, lifting myself up next to him while watching him with wide eyes as he yawned, rubbing his eyes before his gaze landed back on me, watching me watching him.

'How're you feeling?' he asked kindly with a small smile, reaching over and brushing my fringe over to one side. More contact, more shivering. The good kind. Only ever the good kind from now on.

'Better,' I replied softly, leaning into his touch as his fingers traced gently down my cheek. Phil's smile dropped however as he looked me over more carefully and, suddenly feeling very self conscious, I realised I probably looked a bit of a mess. You couldn't really expect much more from someone who'd been living half on the streets for the last few months. My only showers came when I was able to grab one at whoever's flat I ended up crashing at each night. If 'crashing at' was even the right term to use.

'When was the last time you had anything proper to eat?' he questioned with a concerned glance down at my body. Uncomfortably I shrank back from him, wrapping my arms across my stomach awkwardly as I knew what he must be thinking, and he was right. I'd hardly had what anyone could consider a healthy and filling meal in well, probably at least half a year. I'd been getting by on what little I could manage to get, very much so living day to day, and as a result, although I hadn't really realised too much before now, I had grown painfully thin.

'Umm,' I fumbled about trying to come up with a response as Phil frowned at me, dissatisfied for a moment before standing up, leaving me alone on the couch where we'd fallen asleep as he moved off to the kitchen.

'Come on,' he called from the other room. 'I'm making you a proper breakfast. You like pancakes right, oh who am I kidding, everyone likes pancakes,' he joked, as cautiously, I stood up to follow him, half expecting my legs to give out from under me. They didn't, but I did realise just how much everything ached as I made my way slowly to the kitchen, my body, my soul, the whole lot. The Universe truly had hung me out to dry but maybe now things would get a little better. Now I would begin to heal, probably slowly, but affection was the key, and affection seemed to be what I was receiving now.

'Pancakes sound amazing,' I told him truthfully, trying to remember the last time I'd had pancakes, or anything hot to eat at all, as Phil twisted around, flashing me a warm smile that set the tingles off again before he returned to rummaging in the fridge.

'Good,' Phil replied, reaching around to open a cupboard now as I hovered awkwardly behind him.

'Can I do anything to help?' I offered after a few uncomfortable moments of watching him aimlessly as Phil moved about his small kitchen space, pulling out various ingredients from the fridge and from cupboards, loading it all up on the counter top.

'What? No, no, of course not, you let me take care of you lovely,' he murmured, distracted before turning to me once more with a soft smile that made me blush. Suddenly it hit me much harder than before, the small but beautiful, impossible to believe, idea that this man was here, so willing to take care of me. He was here cooking for me and giving me a place to stay, holding me close to him like I _mattered_ and god, did that feel just too good to be true. It couldn't be real.

'Are you really going to let me stay here?' I blurted out before I could stop myself, but I just had to know if it really was all just a dream or not. I knew I couldn't survive another let down, certainly not one as big as this would be but it just seemed so...unlike humanity, at least any I'd experienced, for a complete stranger to invite me to stay at his house then offer protection and food and shelter...I was still waiting to wake up dead if I was going to be perfectly honest.

That didn't happen however. Instead Phil turned slowly back to me, giving me a curious, probing stare for a moment before crossing the room to take my hands in his, looking down at me from his much greater height. His height made me feel small, albeit not insignificant.

'Dan, hun, I know you've been through some real shit, and that makes trust a little hard, but it's over now. All of that, it's gone, I'm here for you now. You can trust me. And I promise, you can stay here for as long as you need, I'm here to help you, as strange and unlikely as that sounds, if you can believe it all, I don't know, but I want to be here to get you back on your feet, okay?' Phil spoke softly, his gentle gaze undeterred from my own, his warm blue keeping me captive, holding me in place, tying me down.

'Okay,' I replied in a bit of a daze, unsure of which of his eyes to stare back into with how close he was to me and needing to tell him so much more; how grateful I was, how much I'd do anything to repay him. But 'okay' was the only word that made it out, even though I was so much more than just 'okay' now.

'Thanks,' I managed to murmur softly after too long once Phil had turned back to what he was doing, but he glanced back upon hearing this anyway to give me a gentle smile before we once again lapsed into silence. Phil cooked. I basked in the idea of salvation.

'Okay first thing we're doing after breakfast,' Phil told me once we'd sat down, plate of pancakes steaming between us when Phil decided to finally break the silence. 'I'm taking you along to the hospital,' he said with an authority that ensured me there would be no arguing, although what he had in mind I was unsure.

'Hospital?' I choked out in worry, nearly inhaling a piece of pancake I'd been midway through swallowing. Phil laughed a little, reaching over to pat me on the back as I coughed a little before he replied, smile dropping again to something a little more serious that didn't do much to reassure me.

'STD tests; god knows what you might have picked up,' he explained and I felt my cheeks flush bright red, feeling awkward as he hinted at what was now my past life. Despite feeling a little insulted however, I knew he was probably right.

'I wasn't completely stupid,' I muttered back just wanting to get that known as I looked down again at my pancakes, refusing to meet his gaze. 'I know about...condoms and stuff,' I added trying not to _sound_ as stupid as I was sure I was actually appearing. I _had_ done my best to be safe, I'd used a condom every time…mostly, but when it came to worrying over HIV or whatever I'd sort of figured it wouldn't matter too much in the long run anyway. I'd been under the impression life didn't hold much better for me back then anyway.

'I'm sure you do, but you can never be too careful,' Phil threatened darkly and I opened my mouth to argue again, but with the look he gave me I thought better of that quite quickly and fell subdue again, staring back down at the pancakes, feeling like I'd been told off for some reason. At least until Phil noticed this sudden change to my mood and sighed softly, moving around a chair to sit next to me where he pulled me into a quick sideways hug. I felt okay then.

'Hey, I don't want you to get sick okay, it will be fine, don't worry. You're gonna be okay,' he reassured me, giving me one of those quick kisses to my head that I was starting to really like so at that I smiled and began trying my hardest not to worry just like Phil had said, despite the sudden reality sinking in. Maybe it hadn't mattered much before when I'd thought I was doomed to die anyway, but now maybe there was a chance I could have a life, perhaps with Phil, if I was lucky, the crippling idea of a probable HIV status scared the hell out of me. I chose to think about the feel of Phil's lips on my forehead instead, and continued to do so right the way through the morning, hanging close to Phil to steady my constant trembling.

••••••

The tests all came back negative causing a collective sigh of relief, and I was happy, but happy was hardly the most intense feeling I was experiencing now. As we left the hospital, Phil's hand resting pleasantly on my waist where he guided me, the strongest emotion I had was once again that of immense, pure gratitude. That gratitude was coupled with the everlasting disbelief that something this good could really be happening, that there could even be someone as good as Phil in this cold, cruel world. Most of all however was the miracle that he'd found me when he did. All these feelings spilling from me I couldn't help but thank him again and again for everything he was doing for me, especially when he didn't have to.

'I just want to make sure you're safe,' Phil replied softly, his impossibly clear, blue eyes gazing deep into my own, drawing me in and capturing me close to his heart. That intimacy allowed me to become lost in their depth and through the connection between us ran my affection for him. I made sure it was known loud and clear because it was only all because _he_ was here for me when no one else was, and he wanted to make sure I was safe. It was the perfect recipe for healing, staying safe with Phil.

But with him, I certainly was so much more than purely safe. Over the next few weeks Phil went out of his way to do everything he possible could to get me back on track, and everything he did built on my trust that the Universe had had something greater in store for me after all. I'd had to go through some shit yes, but it was all worth it in the end because it had all been part of the plan that lead me to Phil, my savior, The One I was meant to be with. As the weeks went on I grew to believe something could save me after all, something had, and that something was love.

In those weeks Phil really did do everything for me, _everything_. Setting me back on track he gave me shelter, food, somewhere I could call home again. With him. _He_ was my home now, nothing else, he was who I could call family and maybe even something closer than that. I felt safe with him and knew he was there protecting me every time I went anywhere, all the time. He became my safe space, the place I could go and feel comfortable, the person I could confess my every last fear and worry to. The person I was closest to.

And over the next few weeks it was clear we were only growing closer. I was opening up again, beginning to trust again. Sure, I was far from healed, that would take longer than a few weeks no matter how close I got, but I found it in me to trust again, or at least to trust just one person, Phil. And from there, the rest to follow became obvious. What had started out as gratitude quickly grew to affection, grew to a crush, and grew eventually to what I was sure must be love. Love, there was nothing else that could feel this perfect was there?

I'd never felt so dedicated to another human being, but then again, I'd never loved this way before. Such a beautifully brand new experience, I needed to hold onto it for all it was worth. I wanted to be near him all the time, have him hold me close all the time, because that was the only feeling worth having in this world, the warmth that came with having his arms around me. I fell in love with the feeling of having him hold me close at night just as quickly as I fell in love with him. The warmth and the idea of him keeping me safe, his touch letting me know someone cared. I loved the small kisses he would plant on my hair in the morning to wake me up.

I fell in love with everything about him, and everything his love was as he fell in love back. It made me feel invincible. Like nothing could hurt me now. Nothing would. I had Phil.

I loved when he started introducing me as his boyfriend. I loved the sound of that, those words, that phrase, that idea, when he said I was his. _You are mine_. That phrase on his lips, that became my favorite phrase. I loved the way it sounded so nice and so warm and safe in his mouth. I _wanted_ to be his with every ounce of everything I had. I wanted his love, this love, loving everything he did, this had to be love. I needed it all.

I loved when he said _I love you_ for the first time. I never thought I'd hear those words but he gave me that hope back. Loved how close to me he was when he spoke the words that first time. Loved how it made me shiver. I loved the sound of the same words on my lips when I spoke it back, a perfect echo, the shared words stretching across a distance and drawing two souls into one, it felt. This was real, this had to be real, it was perfect, it had substance. It was exactly the meaning I had always been sure my life must be destined to have, the same meaning I'd thought I'd lost along the way. But now it was the only reason I had to keep on living.

Love.

 _I love you. You are mine_

 _I love you too_.

"Then let me have you _._ "

Phil's previously soft voice was almost a growl now as he gripped me tightly moving in for our first kiss. It was magical, his lips on mine with a passion I'd never experienced. A taste I'd never encountered. An urgency that confused me. A touch that was more a powerful grip than a gentle caress, becoming rough, too familiar for something I'd never experienced before. Suddenly a sense of fear, and of danger, and then without warning:

It was hell.

It was meant to be my answer, he was meant to be my answer, I was meant to be saved. I thought this would be heaven but he never stopped.

It never stopped; Not when I moaned out his name in agony, the pain, the desperation for it all to end. He was taking it too far, I wasn't ready, not again, it was all happening again. Oh god it hurt. What hurt most? Not the physical pain, the burning, the ripping, the pounding force, again and again despite my screams. No. The emotional ripping of my soul, and my trust, everything I'd had, into two, no a million pieces. I'd placed everything I had left in him and couldn't know any better, had no one to warn me, had no one but him. I'd thought he was The One. I'd thought I could trust him, thought it was safe to let myself feel around him, thought he was saving me, had even convinced myself he felt everything back. I'd never thought anything more wrong.

He kept going, and going, and going. Touching me in places I wasn't ready, places that betrayed my trust as I screamed out for him to stop, to leave me alone. No, no, no. Touching me places that brought back dreadful memories, places that hurt; a pain on every level possible.

He wouldn't listen to me when I asked him to stop, when I pleaded with him, when I begged. Not even when I screamed and cried. He got off on that instead, and eventually I fell silent, when my spirit had broken and I just had to take it. Now I was left even more broken than before. Broken trust, broken love, broken hope, broken dreams. The Universe wasn't through with me yet, even when he was, and I cried and cried and cried.


	5. The Hell

I was cold when I woke up. My entire body ached because of it but I wished I was just a little bit colder. That way maybe my entire body, maybe even my mind if I'd been lucky, would become numb. That way I wouldn't have to accept that what had happened last night _had_ happened.

Even when I could feel the specific ache, that evidence, it was hard to believe my life could have taken yet another tumble, and one this far down. But I couldn't cry any more. It seemed all my tears had run dry. At this point I almost wasn't surprised though. It wasn't like my trust and my destiny hadn't betrayed me before. This was just next on the list.

I lay still, unable, unwilling to move, at least until movement down the hallway alerted me, startling me into action. I sat up, tangled in the bed sheets, suddenly aware I was still naked only as the door creaked open. I didn't cringe when I saw him, not like I expected. I didn't even move when he smiled as his eyes landed on me, lingering as he crossed the room. I could only remain frozen.

That cold state continued as he sat down beside me, moving to wrap his arms around me in an intimate hug from behind. He pressed a gentle kiss to my neck making me shiver as I stiffened in his arms, and that's when the burning that I'd expected from Hell began.

'Last night was amazing babe,' he murmured against my skin, his hands trailed lower across my body just like they'd done last night, only this time it was softer, I didn't feel it as much. I was officially numb, or my nerve endings had simply burnt away. One of those two, I couldn't be sure.

'I love you so much,' he murmured twisting around when I wouldn't to plant a kiss to my lips that I didn't quite feel. It didn't feel like I could say anything back, my voice as frozen as my soul, but when Phil pulled back to look at me it was clear he expected something from me in return. I didn't recognize my own voice as I replied.

 _I love you too._

I'd said them before but the words sounded so wrong in my mouth, they sounded so wrong when they filled up the room and they were certainly wrong when Phil's answering smile landed once again on my lips, leaving me shivering in the cold. His touch however, burnt me once again, just like the Hell he had become. This was so very wrong and as he got up to leave again a single tear slid down my cheek. I was surprised it didn't freeze there.

'Get in the shower babe, we're going to be late otherwise,' Phil called from the other room; cheerfully, as if nothing was happening. Absently I nodded, standing up and making my way over to the bathroom as if in a trance, automatically doing what he was commanding me to, no fight left in me. Was I was just going to take it, just like last night?

Last night. The tears fell properly now I was alone, surrounded by the heat and the steam, the water pounding away at me angrily. That water was scorching hot, leaving my skin red and blotchy, but right now I didn't care. I may have been alone but I was far from safe, I could never be safe again, could I? Slowly I forced myself to come to the full realization of what last night meant.

What I'd thought was my saving grace was gone. It had only ever been the set up for something worse. It was more than just the Universe betraying me now, and Phil's betrayal certainly hurt much worse than before. It hurt so badly it was hard to comprehend, could this really be happening, after all the trust and love I'd placed in him, after he'd been so caring towards me, what would have been the point if he was only going to turn around now and do _this_ to me. What even _was_ this?

My thoughts went deeper into denial, refusing to believe it could be true until eventually I wasn't even sure if it had happened the way I'd thought it had at all. Phil seemed just the same as always now, which didn't fit with the theory of betrayal in the first place. There was no inclination that he was even _aware_ anything wrong had happened last night and the more I cried about it and the more I thought about it, the less real it continued to become.

By the time I left the steamy water again, stepping into the cold air of the bathroom, I'd reached the conclusion I must have misinterpreted something last night. In the intense emotions of what last night _really_ meant, I'd taken it all out of proportion. Or maybe I just hadn't been as clear in telling Phil I wasn't ready as I should have been, in which case it couldn't be his fault.

That was probably the more accurate scenario I decided, feeling slightly better now I'd justified it all in my head. It was true, considering it had only been about a month since Phil had rescued me, that I hadn't quite been ready to reach that vulnerable stage again, even with someone I trusted as deeply as Phil. The question now was whether I should tell him that; he'd seemed so close to me since then and I didn't want to ruin last night for him. I didn't want to do anything to upset him. I loved him.

But I also knew that if I couldn't trust Phil I couldn't trust anyone and I knew he would always be there for me. Maybe this was the sort of thing he'd want me to share, because he needed to protect me and take care of me in every way possible; he'd told me that so many times before, I knew it was true.

That whole day I spent debating various pros and cons of admitting to Phil how I felt, thoroughly convinced now as Phil continued to act as his normal warm and loving self that last night's misinterpretation had been my own fault and nothing else. I should have discussed earlier with him that I wasn't ready so he would have known, and I should have told him in the act before we got too far. I don't know why I didn't say anything at the time.

Not that it mattered too much now because above all else I knew I loved Phil dearly and he loved and adored me back. He would understand when I told him now, I was sure. And it wasn't like we wouldn't have ended up there eventually anyway, even if it had happened a little sooner than I'd anticipated. Then again, maybe it was a good thing Phil had pushed me into it. It wasn't the first time he'd gotten me to open up when I wasn't sure I wanted to but Phil always seemed to know what he was doing. Maybe this had all been part of his healing process. He'd want me to be comfortable around him in all situations of course.

And almost automatically with that thought I was utterly at ease with him again. I went straight back to loving the way he tucked me close into his side on the train, kissing my hair playfully and he murmured flirtatious compliments only I could hear. I decided I'd bring it up as soon as we were home from work, although wasn't sure how.

But Phil being Phil and being so in tune with me gave me an opening anyway, almost like he'd known I needed to say something. It was things like this that only made me love him more.

'Danny, hey, can you come here babe?' Phil called from the living room that evening when we were back at our apartment. He sounded concerned and I was slightly nervous as I left the kitchen to find him. That nervous energy dispersed however, soon upon seeing his touchingly worried expression and feeling him pull me into a soft hug once I'd crossed the room to meet him.

'How are you angel?' He murmured gently against me in that close hug, holding me tightly against him as I relaxed into his touch, tucking my head in under his arm. I nodded lightly in response to the comfort.

'I'm okay,' I replied with a smile, truthfully, because I _was_ okay now. I knew what had gone wrong and it hadn't changed anything between us. Phil thought differently however; apparently he'd noticed I'd been contemplating it all day. He was so perceptive of me, wasn't that just wonderful?

'Are you sure love? You've seemed a little quiet all day,' he noticed, pulling back from our hug and gently raising my chin so I could look at him. Blushing, I averted my eyes for a moment before looking back at him, his gaze probing me silently, intensely. He _had_ noticed my momentary lapse of faith, of course he had. There was no doubt that I was going to tell him now.

'There was one thing. Just a little thing,' I added quickly as his eyes flashed. The last thing I wanted to do was upset him. His expression quickly became one of concerned interest again however, so I continued.

'About last night-' I started but had to stop again. For one moment I felt warm in his arms, warm under his gaze, then suddenly I was cold, freezing cold, as for a split second I thought I'd imagined a dangerous glint in Phil's eyes, as if he were just daring me to continue. And for that second I deluded myself it was there, I was scared.

'Not that it wasn't amazing, it really was-' I continued quickly, fear leaving as Phil's expression was just as calm yet concerned as it had always been. I stumbled over the last bit, the words rushing out of me quickly before I could regret it. 'But um, I was just wondering if uh, you'd be okay with...maybe if we didn't...again, too soon, I think I still need a bit more time to um, recover from, um, yeah,' and thankfully Phil's face relaxed into an apologetic smile. Dazed in relief, I smiled back a little as he pulled me into another tight hug.

'Oh my god, of course darling,' he cooed gently, sounding so regretful it tugged on a large piece of my heart; I hadn't meant to upset him, not at all. 'You should have said something if you were feeling uncomfortable babe, promise me you'll say something next time okay. I didn't mean to hurt you love,' he murmured softly and I nodded under his arm as he held me so close to him it almost hurt, but I was smiling again. All was right in the world again and that would always make me happy.

I knew I wouldn't need to say anything though because Phil knew my boundaries now and he knew what I was comfortable with. He was so loving and caring I knew he wouldn't push me and I could build up to it again in the meantime by myself, knowing Phil was there supporting me, knowing how I felt. So with that, life continued as usual.

The next couple of weeks went smoother than anyone could have hoped for. Each day was very much the same as it had been before the small incident that had been resolved; waking up in Phil's arm, accompanying him to work, helping him and being there for him in anyway I could, coming home and spending the evening together. We didn't go on proper dates, Phil didn't like going out much, but any time together was more than enough for me and always would be; I couldn't get enough of just being around him. The only difference now was there was a bit more kissing, but Phil was reserved, respecting my boundaries and that only further fed my love, making it grow.

Each time he kissed me I found I wanted more and could feel my trust growing ever stronger still. It was hard to justify to myself how much Phil meant to me now, and how much I must mean to him, and how perfect everything we had was.

Until one day something snapped, and everything I secretly feared happened again.

That morning as he'd kissed me awake was the moment I decided I was ready to take that next step. My trust in Phil had never been stronger and everything good that he was had erased almost all memories of my past. He'd made life good again and now I was willing to take that in my stride. I spent the entire day giddy, anticipating tonight when I was planning to tell him.

I'd planned the whole thing out and had the whole day to do so seeing as today was my day off. While Phil was at work I went shopping, gathering all the ingredients for a romantic night in. I went all out, spending a large majority of what little I'd earned so far at the job Phil had got for me as an assistant at his radio station. I spent much of the afternoon cooking and cleaning, making sure the apartment was spotless for him and there was a thoughtful candle lit romantic dinner waiting as soon as he got in from work, sometime around 6. I knew the time by heart because I spent the whole day counting down the seconds; tonight was the night I could properly show him how much he meant to me and how much I loved him.

The sound of the key in the door's lock was the first thing that alerted me Phil was finally home and immediately I was jumping up eagerly from the couch, rushing breathless to the front door just as he walked through.

'Phil, hey you're home,' I cried with a smile moving quickly forwards to let him pull me into a close hug.

'Hi love,' Phil replied sounding less enthusiastic than I would have liked but I was sure any negative mood he was in could soon be resolved when he saw what I'd done for him all of today.

'How was your day at work?' I asked, still breathless, following behind him on his way to the kitchen, keeping at his heels like an eager puppy.

'Fucking shit,' Phil replied with a brute honesty, the harshness to his voice cutting right through me, making me cringe, but I figured today was probably the best day to have planned the perfect thing to keep his mind off anything but me if that was the case. And surely after such a dreadful day at work he'd want nothing more than to spend some quality time with me, his boyfriend. I looked forward to being able to take his mind off things, especially seeing as for the longest time it had always been Phil taking care of me. Now I wanted to do the same back.

'Aww, maybe I can make it better,' I suggested sexily enough to surprise myself and Phil as he gave me an odd look followed quickly by a small smile.

'Maybe,' he replied and I grinned up at him as I let him pull me in close, butterflies taking off as his hand snaked low along my back, his other hand guiding my chin up to make our lips meet as I melted into him, willing to give him the distraction he deserved. But after only a few happy moments he pulled away with a frown, his hands leaving me and that absence of his touch was cold. I looked up to him now with a sad rejection, that sadness mimicked in his following attempt at another smile as he glanced around the kitchen.

'Is that what all of this is?' He asked curiously, an amused grin, before his pained expression landed on me again. I felt my cheeks heat up, turning bright red in the dim light of the candles, and in my blush I glanced away.

'I wanted to do something nice for you,' I explained and Phil chuckled lightly, letting go of me and crossing the room to the shelf. He licked his fingers quickly before pinching out one of the candles I'd lit in my attempt to set the mood.

'Fire hazard having so many candles lit,' he murmured, looking slightly eerie in the dim lighting as his now dark blue eyes landed on me. For a split second I felt a strange sense of foreboding, but that was gone just as quickly as it had come and I was back to feeling only nervous excitement again, unable to foresee that pushing Phil right now would be something I'd regret.

'We don't have to have candles if you don't want,' I muttered in submission as Phil looked to me sharply. 'I just thought they'd maybe add to the mood,' I admitted, giving him a small suggestive smile but Phil's answering smile was sad once more and he shook his head at me.

'Oh, Dan, this is very...thoughtful hun, but I just don't have the time for you tonight,' he admitted, only just barely regretful, and my expression fell. All the effort I'd put into creating a romantic night for us and apparently he was too busy. Maybe I could still work him around to it though; he needed a night off, lately it has only seemed like he was getting more and more stressed and I did so hate to see him frustrated.

'I've got so much shit to do, I'm sorry babe, maybe another night,' he suggested with a quick smile, leaning over to give me a quick kiss on my forehead before leaving the room again and leaving me, standing there confused in the soft glow of the now one less candles.

That rejection hurt slightly, I couldn't help it, even though I knew it wasn't his fault. I'd been looking forward to spending that quality time with him all day but now it seemed that wasn't going to happen and it really put a damper on things.

Not knowing what else to do I followed after him, a little lost so I ended up standing hesitantly in the doorway to the study, where Phil was now busy frowning at his computer screen. After watching him sadly for a few moments I cautiously made the decision to speak up. If I was going to get him to relax with me it would need a bit more force apparently, and I thought giving him some time off was the best thing I could do for him. All I'd wanted was to be a thoughtful caring boyfriend, I just needed to show him how much I loved him.

Phil-' I spoke only softly, but my voice was enough to break him away from his work. In answer he turned back to me sharply, giving me a hard stare that startled me.

' _What_ do you want Dan?' He asked, his harsh tone making me feel cold and the lump that formed in my throat threatened to make me cry. I'd been right, he really _was_ stressed. He'd never been this mean before, I wasn't sure what had happened to my sweet caring Phil because this wasn't him.

'I just wanted to...to spend the night with you,' I told him timidly, shrinking back against the wall as Phil's expression grew more deranged at my words. Was it really such a terrible thing that I wanted to spend time with him? Maybe he thought so. Trying to save the night I decided to tell him my real reason behind all of this. Maybe that would convince him to take some time off for me. After all he did everything for me.

'I..I was going to tell you I'm...I'm ready,' I admitted with a small smile, expecting Phil to smile back, expecting him to pull me into a tight hug and tell me how much he loved me. I pretty much expected him to say anything other than this:

'Dan, I fucking told you, I don't have the time or energy for you tonight, why can't you just get that through your head and leave me alone?' He spat back, taking harsh to a whole new level and I recoiled in shock, tears now finally making their way across my cheeks. In all my fantasies about how tonight would go down it certainly hadn't been anything like this. I hadn't imagined even for a second that 'tonight' wouldn't even happen, but Phil seemed to be quite forceful. I only had one more shot, although taking it was probably the biggest mistake I'd made yet, even if it didn't occur to me it would be until it was too late.

'Surely you can take just a small break,' I suggested hopefully and there was calm for a second, a clichéd calm before a storm, before everything exploded into pieces. Phil exploded in his anger. Apparently that had been the last straw I could place on him before he snapped and in an instant I regretted it.

'A break?!' He shouted standing up so forcefully he pushed the chair over backwards on his way to me, storming across the room while I cowered against the wall. He pinned me there.

'A fucking break!' He repeated, his anger vibrating through me making me tremble. 'Do you think that's how I make enough money to keep you around? Taking fucking _breaks_ whenever youcan't keep it in your pants? Huh, cause it's not like you pull much weight around here, you're useless, you're basically a stupid, good for nothing _housewife_ for fucks sake!'

'I...I only wanted to do something nice for you,' I whispered, my voice barely there. 'I'm trying,' I choked out desperately, only wanting him to love me. That was all I'd ever wanted from anyone, just for someone to love me. But now the one who I'd thought had loved me was shouting at me, pinning me back against the wall, raising his hand as if he was going to hurt me. All I'd done had been to try and give a little back, but apparently I'd been far out of my comfort zone.

'Oh, you're fucking _trying_ are you? You call getting in my way all the time and trailing after me like some pathetic helpless baby ' _trying'_ do you? And now you think you can make up for everything I've given you with one stupid night, is that all you have?' Phil's words cut deep. I'd thought I'd been safe with him. I'd thought he lived to protect me. I'd thought he loved me, but he only saw me as a burden. Right now it was like I was nothing in his eyes.

'I'm sorry,' I choked out through the tears, cringing as he pushed me back into the wall, it's roughness rubbing at my skin and my soul.

'Oh you're _sorry_ , are you? That's cute that is, but it's too damn late for sorry now, isn't it?' His every word was punctuated by a further rough shove back into the wall and I cried out in pain as Phil's grip was much too tight, his fingers digging into my arm, leaving bruises.

'If this is what you really want, this is what you're going to fucking get,' he growled and I barely had time to whimper before his mouth was on mine and his body was pressing me back against the wall as it had all happened before.

Phil was strong, too strong; I couldn't fight this, I couldn't push back, not when he was holding me back with every inch of strength he had. His fury translated into a painfully rough kiss and I didn't know how to tell him no, I knew he wouldn't listen. It was just like before; I could see that now, last time I hadn't been mistaken in what had happened. Things had taken a turn for the worse and I'd confused heaven with hell and now I was stuck with a demon.

Blocking it out was impossible too. I couldn't not feel Phil's hands as they groped at me eagerly. I was too well aware of what was happening, flashback after flashback from before hitting me and it all kept coming, there was nothing I could do.

So instead of doing anything I just cried. Hot salty tears slipping down my face. They were tears of pain as Phil spared no expense when it came to being rough, tears of heartbreak as it finally sank in that what I'd deluded myself into thinking had been something perfect turned out to be quite the opposite. I couldn't tell if I was more broken over the disappointing realization that my life was still destined to only be full of misery and suffering, I knew there would only ever be more of this to come, or if it was the confusing matter of Phil's betrayal, how the only thing that had led me to believe some good may come of life after all now had backfired. Now I knew that wasn't true, life still sucked to say it understatedly, but didn't Phil still love me? He'd told me so many times and he'd seemed so sincere when he'd said it...

That was the only thought that didn't keep me from losing my mind that night; that somehow this wasn't the Universe's doing, it wasn't a matter of destiny. I'd just fallen in love with someone as broken as me and Phil just wasn't sure how to love me the way I'd always expected love would be. Or maybe I was just wrong on that account too. What was love after all, maybe this was how it was supposed to happen. They always say life isn't the way it is in the movies, so maybe I'd been deluded my whole life into thinking it was something sweeter than this. Or maybe I just deserved this punishment, karma in action.

I'd think all of that later, but for right now it was hard to feel loved with what was happening. All I'd tried to do was something a little romantic, but I'd miscalculated, I'd upset Phil, gotten in his way, and now he was punishing me for it.

 _This is what you want, this is what you're going to fucking get._

 _I'm going to teach you a fucking lesson, you little slut. Don't bother me again._

Silently I vowed I never would. I'd never wanted to upset him in the first place. But I couldn't tell him that out loud when my face was pressed up against the wall, the poorly plastered surface grinding at me as he did. I couldn't think too well either, my mind choosing instead to focus on the pure agony of what felt like being ripped apart. Who needed lube anyway?

As I cried I closed my eyes, trying so desperately to drift away to somewhere nicer while I had no choice but to let Phil get on with it all. I tried to block out his hateful words, tried to imagine instead he was murmuring gentle phrases of love and adoration. I tried to imagine his too tight, too eager grip was a soft caress rather than something that would leave bruising and heartache, violation. I tried to picture his anger as passion, my screams of pain as moans of pleasure. I tried to convince myself this _was_ what I'd wanted, just like Phil had told me, but I couldn't. I couldn't imagine any of it. I was too busy concentrating on how much it was all the opposite.

I was numb again by the time Phil was done, leaving me a crumpled heap on the floor. That was, of course, if it was possible to be numb at the same time you were screaming internally.

 _Are you fucking happy now? Will you leave me the fuck alone now?_

I could barely move to nod and the remainder of that evening I spent unmoving, staying as the damaged load of human being on the floor that I was. Silently I watched Phil work, his back to me and with each moment I was terrified he would turn around but I was too scared to move away.

The night went on and I stayed paralyzed, perpetually in my corner where I'd been left, and I could only force myself to accept this was all my life could be now. A constant battle to realise love wasn't what I'd thought it had been all this time. It turned the whole world on its head and that was hard, that was impossible, but it was still a better solution than the alternative, and that was to accept Phil had never even loved me in the first place. That wasn't true, that just couldn't be true. No matter what else he did that seemed to prove otherwise, I knew he loved me, he had to, he had to. He just didn't know how to show it and that wasn't his fault. That would never be his fault.

The last thing I remember thinking before sleep finally took over my exhausted mind was:

 _I forgive you._

I didn't like to think of Phil coming anywhere near me right now, the memory of his touch too raw to bear just now whether I understood his reasons or not, but it was obvious he must have at some point when I was asleep anyway. How else would I have fallen asleep on the floor but woken up the next day wrapped in blankets and in bed?

As I came to, a slow process, Phil was no where to be seen, which for the moment, was fine. I felt sick still and didn't like to, but had to reprimand myself to resume believing _it wasn't his fault._

That thought would become my lifeline for a while. The only thought that kept me sane; the need for a constant reminder _it wasn't his fault_. It was mine, it had all been my fault. I'd messed up. I'd do better next time. I'd have to, for us.

Fearful of doing anything wrong again, all I did was lay there until Phil re-entered the room maybe an hour later. His eyes were red like he'd been crying and I knew I looked the same. But it was a Saturday so we had the whole day to talk; I had the whole day to apologize.

Phil didn't say anything as he walked into the room, meeting my gaze from the doorway and keeping it as I sat up slowly, frozen like a deer in the headlights as he crossed the floor. He sat on the edge of the bed watching me for a moment like he was waiting for me to say something, then when I didn't, he just sighed, glancing away before back at me this time with a more expectant expression, more reluctant.

'I'm free today, if there's anything you'd like to do. Just thought I'd give you fair warning,' he told me with a distance to his tone and still somewhat terrified I only nodded, waiting for him to say more. He could see he'd scared me, that was painfully obvious; he looked sympathetic now and took the opportunity to explain himself and I'd be forever grateful for that. Knowing what was going on now was the most important thing to me and I listened eagerly, leaning forward and hanging on to his every word, desperate to know how I'd wronged him so I could promise never to do it again.

'I'm sorry hun,' he began, voice still oddly strangled and _I_ felt sympathetic for him; I hated to see him hurting just because I'd screwed up. If he wasn't about to say it I knew I couldn't let him think it was his fault. It wasn't, he had to know that, if he didn't I'd tell him. I didn't have to. He did.

 _'_ I don't _want_ to hurt you but you've got to learn some way or another. I love you but we're only working against each other if I have to keep telling you the same things when you aren't listening, you understand? You'll get there though. You're young, you're going to make mistakes, just in the future if I ask you something, pay attention the first time and try not to whine about it, yeah? Then I won't have to punish you, now will I?' Phil's words resonated with me strongly, his darker than usual gaze penetrating me, making me tremble.

Remaining silent, I slowly shook my head, staring up at him wide eyed. but glad he knew it was my fault. It was. It always was.

 _So you can see how you deserved it last night?_

Still silent I nodded now, desperate to communicate to Phil how dreadful I felt. All he'd ever done for me was care for me and what did I give in return? I only made his life harder. At that thought I began to cry. Phil responded by wrapping his arms around me tightly, letting me cry into his shoulder, his comforting touch rubbing up and down by back, consoling me now.

Because Phil was nothing short of right. His interpretation made perfect sense, it was the only option that could be the truth of the way it was. Never mind my exasperated thoughts that maybe Phil just didn't know 'how to show affection', or worse, that this wasn't even love to begin with. No, the only explanation was I had deserved whatever punishment Phil saw fit. It had been me from the beginning because all Phil was, was good, and good certainly didn't deserve the repayment of having a boyfriend who didn't listen when it hadn't exactly been hard really. He'd asked me nicely once to leave him alone and I should have dropped it then. No, I should have asked his permission in the first place, before even deciding to try and waste his whole night. Everyone had their boundaries, I knew that, I'd met some of mine in the past, and now I had to learn where Phil's were so I could respect them. If I _didn't_ respect those than it was only fitting that I be reprimanded for it. Not listening to your boyfriend was bad and bad people deserved to be punished.

Eventually my crying subsided enough that I could choke out a soft _I'm sorry Phil_ when he allowed me to pull back to look at him,and at that he smiled calmly, letting me breath a sigh of relief that he apparently forgave me.

'It's okay,' he allowed, and I managed to give him a weak smile back as he pulled me closer into another hug, kissing the top of my head just like he always did.

 _I know you're sorry and I know you love me. I just hope that means you won't do it again. Whatever I do to you though, that doesn't mean I love you back any less babe. I'm only trying to teach you the ways of the world while you're still so young, so impressionable. Somehow has to. I'm only here to protect you. You know that, I know you do._

And that I could believe without a doubt because I did already know it. Phil _was_ only ever trying to help me and I knew I needed all the help I could get. Last night, no matter what blasphemously wrong thoughts had crossed my mind during the act, had only ever been Phil teaching me where I'd overstepped a line. I knew better now. I wouldn't do it again.

And I knew the truth now. I knew what had happened and why, and I agreed with every reason Phil had given me. But that didn't stop me from realizing later that day I was still a little scared of him.

Maybe it was just a fear of letting him down again, or maybe it was something deeper, some deeper instinct that this was all as wrong as I should have always known but always wanted, needed, to doubt. I wanted more than anything to believe with the dedication and conviction I _should_ have that Phil's form of punishment had been the only thing harsh enough to teach me the lesson I'd needed. But no matter how many times I told myself I must have just gotten the norm wrong, I couldn't shake the feeling that I hadn't and there was something quite dangerous about all of this.

I did try. The rest of the weekend I spent trying. Trying to convince myself endlessly that everything was fine, everything was perfect...

But that time was difficult, a true struggle. As I tried harder and harder over the next few days I couldn't shake the feeling. Every time Phil so much as glanced at me it became harder, because behind his every state there was a warning, the warning I was afraid of. What that warning meant:

 _Don't overstep my line again._

So it was harder to ignore this time, my own fearful thoughts that I'd tripped and fallen into something that was only going to end badly, it was going badly already. Trying to tell myself over and over again he loved me and it had been my fault, well it got the point I just couldn't lie to myself anymore. Something in me just told me that was wrong, it couldn't be right, or at least I didn't want it to be right anymore.

What started out as a small doubt to Phil's agenda became something larger until by the time Monday came around again I knew I could go no longer naively believing Phil's love was pure. It was all but pure and I knew I'd been wrong about him. Just like that I was another level deeper into hell.

Monday was hard. Waking up next to Phil, feeling his figure curled around me, I felt trapped, that was understandable. I wished I didn't. This wasn't the way I was supposed to feel about the man I'd believed had been the love of my life. For the last time I tried desperately not to feel betrayed and frightened and somewhat like my world was quickly falling to pieces once more, but it had become impossible to convince myself this was something else. Something other than what I could see was wrong now. It was never a matter of it being my fault, I wished it was again and again, but the only truth of the matter was Phil had betrayed me. I'd placed trust and love in him and he'd taken advantage of me, twice now, and that probably wouldn't be the last of it. This couldn't be how love worked, even if it wasn't my fault, Phil shouldn't be acting this way, I shouldn't let myself stay in this...But I still loved him too much to leave.

Now I realised I was stuck in more than one sense. The more I thought about it the more convinced I became of the terrible, terrible truth, but the more sure I was that no matter if I knew the truth or not I was equally as powerless to do anything about it. He may have hurt me yes, but I still loved Phil and I just couldn't let that go. The worst part though, was knowing no matter what happened to me here, I was still probably better off here than I would be back where he'd found me. So maybe I'd just have to live with this.

Even after I realised deluding myself was impossible I continued to try, just one last time, but understood quickly how much more that hurt, somehow the truth was less painful than the lie. But the truth still hurt worse than hell. I could try my hardest but every instinct was constantly screaming at me constantly about how wrong this all was, and I knew it, I didn't need the consistent reminder to tell me that, that was only more pain. There could only ever be so long one human could go sustaining the agony of going against their every instinct, so I gave in. It wasn't like I had never been to hell and back. This was just another day, another fall.

But the familiarity didn't make coping with it any easier. Day in and day out the pain never let up because how was I supposed to get over something that had this much repercussion, this level of damage? You just couldn't. There was no comeback from this and I knew it. There was no point denying it, there would never be a better day whether this hell was escapable or not. I just wished I'd known that before I let things get this far, but I hadn't known, I could have had no idea. That was of course why this hurt so badly. Pain itself was one thing, but it was totally different when it was all inflicted by the only one you loved, and possibly even more tormenting when that person pretended it wasn't even happening. Phil didn't ever seem to know what he was doing to me, how his actions were affecting me, what his betrayal meant for me. That ignorance, that hurt the most.

It wasn't like I expected anything to get better from that point forward, but it came as a shock to realise over the following weeks things were getting worse. Everything would be okay for a while, at first maybe a week if I was lucky, half a week, but that quickly progressed to a few days at best. Those days I spent scared, every waking moment literally trembling in constant fear. It destroyed me, wrecked me beyond repair, the intense levels of emotional damage nothing anyone could recover from, but those days in between, they were my days of light relief. Those days Phil would leave me alone, he wouldn't touch me and at first I was living for those days, the only thought that kept me hanging on through the suffering, that tomorrow would be okay and Phil would almost be back to normal. But soon I came to realise in other ways those days were actually worse, and with that, life got worse once more.

There was physical abuse, that was one level, and it hurt like hell yes, quite literally, but once the abuse turned psychological…it was excruciating. It's hard to describe quite how painful it is to hear your loved one do nothing but put you down. Insult after insult fired from their mouth, never a kind word, only sounds you hear each day being how badly you let them down, as a lover, as a boyfriend, as a human being. Each harsh word digging at your self esteem until you had nothing left; if the only one who loved you thought _that_ littleof you, just what must everyone else think? That was the question I asked again and again.

Phil made me out like the bane of his very existence, of _everyone's_ existence. On those days, in between the physical anguish, I could never even be sure why he kept me around at all. Could he really love me, had he even ever loved me? I came to the conclusion probably not. My wounds deepened as they did a little more every day, but there was definitely no such thing as love anymore.

Then the days would come where Phil would snap and I would remember _exactly_ why he kept me around; I was nothing but an instrument of his pleasure along with his abuse, and time after time I found myself being unable to do anything but endure it. The idea of fighting against Phil was laughable, I was too weak, too numb for that, but somehow I still cared about him, even with all of this. It was an uncomfortable state to be in. I told myself it wasn't love, not anymore, but still it was dependence, I was too weak for it not to be. So I had no choice but to just let Phil get on with it and try not to feel the pain when he beat me, when he raped me. I just let him take that anger out, forever hoping the next day was better. It never was.

All of this made it hard to justify why I was still here. Why would I choose to continue living here, continue to stay in what little was left of this relationship when all it was now was living in constant fear of the man I'd loved. It was the last situation I would have ever wanted to be in, the very worst place _anyone_ could be, but it was that matter of dependence again. A pitiful excuse, but when was it going to be the case this was the first time I'd had to tackle fabricating crap excuse after crap excuse to explain the hell that was my life?

It wasn't like I could go anywhere else. Not like I would be able to survive out there on my own, fend for myself. No, I relied now on Phil's money and shelter. Ironic seeing as earlier I'd only been relying on his love. Not that Phil would _let_ me leave even if I could. I'd never survive trying to break up with him, it just wouldn't happen. Running away wasn't really an option either; I wouldn't last two days on the streets now. So the relationship stayed even though it was hardly a relationship. I liked to call it one still though, it helped. Helped me hope that maybe it could still be put back together, helped me rationalize stupidly that I must still be here because I still loved Phil on some level. That was a relationship, wasn't it?

That, at least, seemed like a less desperate reason than knowing it was really just an urgent human instinct kicking in. An instinct for survival; staying here where it hurt, when in the outside world I knew it would not, based only on reasoning this pain was still better than death. Most days however I was doubtful.

I wasn't holding out for a miracle. There wasn't _really_ any hope because this was unfixable. And who was I kidding, there was never any such thing as hope in the first place. A concept unknown to the Universe, it had never been there.

So weeks dragged on into months, dragged on, becoming years, and time turned me into nothing more than a ghost of whatever distant past I may have had. I couldn't remember too well. I couldn't even recognise myself when I looked in the mirror anymore, there was only a shell with blank, empty eyes staring back, grey skin. It didn't even feel like I was a part of this reality anymore. Not when everything was only a blur of pain, here one minute, gone the next until the next wave hit and it started again. I was constantly fading in and out of consciousness, but only barely. It could hardly be called 'living' that was for sure.

Back before when there had been a little hope left I may have believed the Universe had simply 'given up' on me, but it was obvious now what a load of bullshit that was. The 'Universe' didn't control shit, life just happened to be shit all by itself and now, for me, life didn't even exist, let alone faith. I may as well be dead for all the difference it would make.

No one gave a shit. Not me, not Phil, no fucking _destiny_ because there could be no God or higher power that chose to be this cruel. And that was the only thing that helped now, strangely, being secure in my belief that no-one had _done_ this to me, I wasn't part of some terrible master plan. No, instead I came to the conclusion I'd probably done this to myself. Not the most traditionally comforting thought I know, but it helped. I don't know why. I didn't have the energy left anymore to try and think about why. I didn't have the strength. Maybe I would have if I hadn't spent so long before being naïve. Maybe if I'd realised earlier there was no love in this I'd have left when I still had the chance, when there was still strength. Or maybe not. I'd never know. Life has no re-do button.

Not that it mattered to anymore, not even to me, but there was one thing I learnt from all of this, one useless little bit of advice that I wished I'd know from the start. So here's your life lesson kids:

 _In the end, nobody loves you, but that doesn't even matter when it comes down to it, because it's all fucking shit and nothing means anything anyway. So don't waste your energy thinking for even a second it's going to get any better for you. It doesn't. That's just how it is. There is no hell; you're already in it._


	6. The Escape

Years later I would still never be sure where the unexpected inspiration to get myself out would have come from. Sometimes I wasn't even sure it had come from me at all, but rather felt like I'd been pulled along by an invisible string. Maybe someone or something else _was_ controlling my destiny after all.

Like most days however over the last few years that last one had been a bit of a blur, but that was to be expected from a life that had been quickly fading. Maybe the day of the escape had been the very last of me left, any longer and I'd have faded out completely, and so on that last day some unknown hidden little bit of human instinct to survive shone through, right in time. Surprising, considering it wasn't like there was much human in me left.

All I knew was that _something_ possessed me that day to get out and blindly, I followed it.

It wasn't like I knew the plan, plans had become a thing of the past when I'd realised they never work, all I was doing was following that strange instinct. It wasn't like any instinct I'd experienced before, almost entirely unlike a call to survival at all… I didn't know what was going on but it seemed to be leading me out, so I paid attention.

Phil was asleep despite it being the middle of the afternoon, but all the better for an escape I figured, if the devil didn't catch you sneaking out of hell. Quietly I unlocked the door. Quietly I crept out. And quietly I shut the door again. Now I was outside in the hallway. Running down the stairs to make a quick bid for freedom happened less quietly.

I never stopped running once I made it to the streets. I'd keep running till the end of my life. Running _to_ the end of my life.

The bus, like everything in that life I was running from, was something I had not seen coming and like everything else, it seemed, that had ever happened to me, it hit me, and it hit me hard. Not for the first time I was thrown wildly off course to be left struggling to move out of the way because of the agony of the ache that followed.

I'd been in hell for quite a while now but nothing had burned quite like this before. Every single inch of my body was alight and I was sure it would only take a few moments to burn me up completely, but I had to reassess when after those few moments the hell raged on.

The air was thick; it wouldn't enter my lungs properly. That was probably because someone had stabbed a jagged white rod through my side. There was red, lots of it, coating that stake through my side, painting the road, too much of it, but I smiled at the colour. It was the only colour that had painted my life in a long while. People crowded around, I could tell that much, but not much else. For a moment a loud noise almost startled me, my heart pumped faster, more red, but the sirens began to fade, fade into the background rather than come closer.

Thankfully my life didn't flash before my eyes. I didn't need to see all that again. Instead the fading intensified, the last few minutes acting as a deranged metaphor for my entire existence.

Over those next few minutes I continued to fade, I was a lost cause. The pavement was bright red and the burning had stopped. Then, so did my breaths. Quickly followed my heart, as if it hadn't shut down a long time ago.

In the last second, last chance I had, I smiled.

That last bit of life in me did fade out then and everything went black, like the whole Universe had gone out. Time stopped but I'd been granted my only wish:

 _I had escaped._


End file.
